Inviting The Monkey Wrench
by Geckobox
Summary: A mildly concussed inventor, a brawler with anger issues, and grand tour. Because one does occasionally wonder how the bull got into the china shop in the first place. (Vi attends the first church of the f-bomb, be warned)
1. Chapter 1

**Inviting the Monkey Wrench**

By Geckobox

There is a certain degree of…well-intentioned eccentricity necessary to work in Piltover's scientific community. After all, a "City of Progress" runs on equal parts genius and gleeful disregard for the status quo. That is to say one would be hard pressed to make it one week in the city without at least one laboratory exploding, imploding, growing, shrinking, or releasing the zoological embodiment of the phrase "what could possibly go wrong" to go barreling down the streets to perform some much needed karmic balancing.

After centuries of this sort of affair happening with clockwork regularity, Piltover as a whole had acquired a relatively high threshold for anxiety. The average citizen possesses a high tolerance for loud noises and sudden flames. The average Scientists possessed the same, with the additional capacity for being ability to pick up precisely _which_ laboratory had performed a scientific _faux pas_ via the smell of the resulting smoke and the tone of the screams.

For instance, Professor Fardeer's laboratory was widely considered the most respectable in its occasional conflagrations—which is to say, they always smelt slightly of singed apples and he hired his interns with melodic screams as a priority trait.

Jayce, sitting at favorite worktable, situated near one of the large, arcing windows that presented his own laboratory with a luxurious view of the city streets, could, at present, smell and hear the results of Fardeer's latest thauma-chemical treatise. Apparently, he had been wrong, judging by the harmonious panic that rang out. Not that Jayce was particularly interested at present.

He had his own lapse in forethought to account for. He checked the clock on his wall again. He had about an hour before it started.

_Oh Forces Be!_ He fumed inside.

He absent-minded tinkered with a collection of mechanical odds-and-ends spread across the worktable with reckless abandon. He kept them there as a source of meditation: he found working with his hands a good means of venting his frustration and clearing his mind. At present, it didn't seem to be working.

_ What had he been thinking? _It seemed harmless enough at the time. Admitted, he had not been in best frame of mind to considered fully the consequences, but still. Why, _in all heavens and hells imaginable_, had he made the offer? _A grand tour of his lab_? He barely trusted his skeleton crew of assistants and interns with around his projects, let alone _her_.

He briefly considered the notion he was being paranoid. It wasn't uncommon among his peers, both the Piltover academia and the League's competitors. The former was positively soaked in stories about scientific espionage and patent theft. The later, thankfully, only wished to kill him. Either community alone was enough to make one a tad…weary of visitors. That wasn't even factoring in the Incident. He glanced at the Mercury Hammer, which currently sat in its nest of wires and gauges, undergoing diagnostics. It was, Jayce was sure, the most dangerous weapon in the building. He had made sure it was. After what happened the last time he had a "professional visit". What that…_thing_, dressed as a man though he was, had done to his research, to his coworkers. He had quite a lot of them back then…

A dull buzzing shook him from the pit forming in his thoughts. He looked up to see a brass form, vaguely humanoid save a rather square head and a collection of gauges, bolts, and wires that dotted its body.

"Professor Jayce? If I may disturb you for a moment." While the automaton didn't have a mouth to speak from, a voice nonetheless buzzed out from a wire mesh embedded in its chest.

Jayce shot a glance at the clock. He apparently had been inside his head for the larger part of an hour. _Damn._

"You seldom do, Harvey. Let me guess: That visitor I asked you to keep an eye for—"

"—has currently entered the lobby of the tower, sir, yes. As of my last moment of observation, I would assume –with your humoring of my estimate, of course— she will arrive in approximately fifteen minutes."

The voice had a shrill edge to it. Jayce winced at the pitch and briefly regretted not running quick sweep of his lab rather than worrying away at his worktable. Who knows what other little surprises could potentially blindside him during his tour? As if the guest wasn't reason enough to worry. He pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache cheerfully sprung across his synapses. That voice really was _very_ shrill.

"Yes, thank you, Harvey. That will be all."

Jayce watched the drone lumber away with spastic footsteps. He had built Harvey to test out the notion of automated assistants. The automaton was a fantastic success, provided you didn't ask it to perform any test that required fine motor skills or any degree of delicacy beyond that of a drunken rhinoceros. Much like, say, his visitor.

Jayce let out a frustrated sigh and stood up from his worktable. Personal forebodings or no, his parents had raised him to be a good host, and good hosts did not appear at the door in an apron covered in oil and acid stains of various ages. He hung up the well-worn garment and decided to run a quick check of lab. He couldn't fix anything broken in time, but he could at least clean up the clutter. He had offered a grand tour, and he intended to keep his word. Even in the very likely event it would end in trouble.

Vi cracked her knuckles anxiously, much to the annoyance of the grey-haired technician standing next to her. She didn't enjoy elevators that much. Small spaces she could handle. Sort of. But elevators meant a small space she couldn't bust out of, even if things went haywire. No, if the pulley was busted or the wires where put in just the _wrong_ way… well all she could do was stand-fucking-by for a ride to hell next to a bunch of twitched-eyed eggheads and a janitor. Lovely. Vi, the kickass fist more-or-less of the law, splattered inside a glorified dumbwaiter. Great. She cracked her knuckles again. Damn, did this tin box move slowly.

Truth be told, she normally would have avoided this ivory bloody tower like the den of holier-than-thou "professors" it was, but this was an…odd and, if she was being honest, slightly lucky set of circumstances. Contrary to public opinion, Vi's interest in hextech ran a bit farther than her own gauntlets. She had grown up on spare pieces of technical wisdom she had gleamed from the steam-jockeys and self-taught mechanics that littered the outskirts of Piltover. It may not have been much but the jury-rigged knowledge of mechanics was what had ultimately afforded her enough of an income (albeit from jacking every piece of tech she could fence at a reasonable price) to survive until her much more comfortably position as Caitlyn's partner in approximated justice.

The experience as a whole had left her with a rather selfish tendency to hoard information with squirrel-like obsession. She knew more about Piltover's current and future research than she cared to admit to anyone, ol'Cupcake included. Thus the prospect of getting an inside look at a modern researcher's lab was exhilarating. Especially since she could actually bear being the same room with the inventor in question.

Not to give him too much credit. Jayce was still a smug, egotistical moron. He was just more relatable. He at the very least cared about Piltover as a whole. The other eggheads around here probably didn't even know the city _had_ slums. That and, for all the swagger and posing he did as the city's self-elected "hero" (what nerve on that man…) he enjoyed knocking out hoodlums with that hammer of his just a _little_ too much for it to just me a matter of doling out justice. She could see Piltover's protector had a touch of bar room brawler in him, even if he denied it vigorously. She could respect that.

Another little perk was she knew she would be treading on quite a few toes by visiting the infamous Starrell Tower. It was a beacon of both technology and high-class over-indulgence. By entering the place she would allow herself to inspect the former while waving a merry middle finger to the latter. It was that sense of stuffiness that had her barred from entering when she came snooping around as a child. The doorman had all but punted her out when she asked if they allowed visitors. Well, that certainly hadn't been the case this time. Well, mostly…

She hadn't exactly asked Jayce to let her in. Asking him for a tour directly would have meant no shortage of smug grins and mock flirting. No, it was Jayce who had made the offer. Albeit while punch-drunk…

As thugs go, they had been fairly organized. There had been twelve of them total. They had tried to make off with an industrial mining rig. About ten feet tall and encased in armor designed to shrug off dynamite detonations at point blank range, it easily cleared a path for them through the crowds of the plaza. They probably intended to strip it for parts. Vi had caught up with them in the middle of a shopping district first. A quick swing and she had already knocked out their leader. Some upstart gang leader in goggles. She had already managed to take out some more of his minion as well as put a significant dent in the mining rig's blast armor. Then Jayce _had_ to show up of course. Damn idiot. Yes, fair enough, he did technically spare her a back full of lead from thug she had missed, but still. He had even made some smug ass retort about it too. Probably some moronic pun. She hadn't really been listening.

From there the two of them had thinned out the herd pretty quickly. Two of Piltover's champions versus a band of thugs with nothing but pipes and jury-rigged steam pistols. Not much of a challenge. Then the rig had blindsided her. She had just put one of the uglier thugs through a window when she heard it barreling towards her. Of course Hero boy decided to pull a fast one and knock her out of the way. A nice gesture, though one that apparently forgot she was fully armored and he was just in that stupid leather getup of his. He had gone flying into a wall. She saw him crumble into a heap on the floor. The sound hadn't been reassuring.

Vi didn't remember much from there. She had been a little miffed at that point. She did remember coming to with Caitlyn gingerly patting her on the back and asking her to put the rig's arm down. Preferably in the pile that made up it's other limbs. The pilot had long since bailed and hid in a nearby trashcan.

Thankfully, Cupcake had thought to bring a Patrol team with her. Medics included. More for the thugs than her, she had explained. Fair enough. A slightly woozy Jayce had been looked over twice and declared relatively fine, besides a couple broken ribs and a concussion. Vi had let out a breath she didn't remember holding. Of course that smarmy bloody idiot survived. Only he could have done something so _stupid _and come in one piece. She had every intention of putting his head through a window then and there. Instead she had settled for mocking that stupid invention of his:

"Maybe you should have included a shield on that thing, eh, Futureboy?" she barked as approached him, pointing to the hammer he was currently using as aid in staying upright.

"Oh, the Doctor's say I'm fine thanks." He deadpanned. He had been leaning against the wall of some bakery with a broken window. A pair of legs jutted out of the broken glass and mild groaning called a medic and an officer inside. So much for plan B.

"Figures. That big head of yours makes for a good airbag."

"And here it just held up my pretty fac—"

"What the _fuck _where you thinking!" Vi's shout cut him off. She had been a little angry at the time. Between the adrenaline from the fight and an odd of sense panic she couldn't explain, she felt a flame dancing in her chest.

"Well traditionally when you banter at me, I banter right back. The shouting is new thou—"

Somehow the usual post-fight quips only enraged her.

"A fucking mining rig. Six tons of goddamn metal and death and you decide you'll just catch it like rubber ball. Do you have any concept of how fucking _dead _you should be right now? All because of some stupid knight-in-shining-armor _BULLSHIT!"_

The glass shards of the window had resonated with her fury. Jayce, for once, stayed quite and tried to look her in the eye. He had trouble focusing. The impact had knocked him silly.

" I've taken worse and lived. Heck, I might even have some ideas on how to do it better next time. A few modifications—" he patted his hammer "—and I'm be damn near impervious."

He flashed a grin that at any other time might have been heroic. Right now, underneath a layer of grime, bruises and cuts that had only just stopped tricking crimson, it only seemed delusional. Vi, for once, felt enraged and helpless at the same. She hated the feeling.

"Oh. Next time? So you intend to go off and almost kill yourself again? Only with another fucking button on your little toy. Yeah, all my worries have just vanished now! Thanks so much Futureboy. That's a real load off _my_ mind!"

She was roaring now. There was no doubt the patrol team could hear her. She could here Caitlyn's boots on the cobblestones as she approached. No doubt for damage control. Jayce, for his part, righted himself with his hammer as a crutch and peeled himself off the wall. He winced visible and free hand darted to his side. Vi felt the flame in her chest surge.

"Look" he winced again as he settled himself in front of her.

" This little "toy" helped me keep this entire city from a madman with access to power like you've never even _seen_"

Vi glared and made to interrupt, but he pressed on louder, waving one placating: " I have the tools and resources to protect myself. Hell, I'll prove it. I'll show my entire lab, top to bottom. The grand tour. Let's see if you still think I'm ill-equipped then."

Vi saw a hardness in his eyes that made it very clear he was going to continue with his own plans regardless of her reaction. She faintly wondered if this was what Caitlyn saw in her own eyes. The flame in her chest died down, but she still felt the heat. She leaned closer to him, eyes flaring angrily.

"Fine. If you have to go around being a fucking idiot, I might as well get something out of it. Three o'clock , next Wednesday. Let's make sure you're good and healthy when I break that ego of yours."

She turned around and trudged past a puzzled Caitlyn. The Sheriff of Piltover raised an eyebrow. Vi faked a grin.

"Just a professional disagreement. Nothing you need to worry about."

Caitlyn was immediately worried.


	2. Chapter 2: Sucker Punch Suite

Vi shook the memory out of her head and tried to calm herself. That molten feeling in her chest threatened to come back. No _fucking_ thanks. She was Piltover's enforcer: the ever-present ultimatum of a swift boot up the ass to anyone not willing to play nice. All this "feelings" crap wasn't for her. _She_ was supposed to cause emotions in _other_ people. Like fear. She knew where she stood with fear. She either ignored it or inspired it. She most sure-as-fuck didn't _feel_ it.

She was vaguely aware that Jayce had something to do with this. No, scratch that. She was sure Futureboy was responsible. Gears _damn_ that smug bastard. Ally or not, he had no right to be in her thoughts as anything other than colleague or a rival. It was not her job to worry about his safe—Wait, _what the fuck did she just think?_

Vi stood stark upright in the elevator as her hands clenched and unclenched. Her gaze fixed on the door as a look of confused rage slowly crossed her face. He eyes did not budge even as the door opened with a metallic chime. The other occupants, as one, felt a primeval portion of their brain inform them that this _was_ in fact their stop and they should really be going _now._

Suddenly aware of the now open space around her, Vi leaned against the wall of the elevator and pinched the bridge of her nose. Okay. Clearly she was both a tad excited about getting to see some new tech and had also had spent a little too much time inside a confined space with poor ventilation and six nerds' worth of poor hygiene. The latter was certainly enough biological warfare to excuse a moment of delusion. No need to consider that train of thought _any god damn further._

Vi righted herself and crossed her arms. She decided to occupy herself the same way she always did when there was a significant lack of violence to be had. She thought about hextech.

The fight with mining rig had shown her that that the socket joints in the limbs where pretty flimsy when push came to shove. Given that her own gauntlets had been built up from the hands of an even older rig… hmm. Best start thinking of ways to keep from losing fingers in the middle of fight. The brute-force approach would be finding better sockets. Easy, but expensive, and the wear and tear would mean replacements to buy as well. Fuck that. Maybe if she could find an older gen steam carriage. Old gals had some pretty hardy shock absorbers. Wouldn't be too hard to tear the little beauties out and see what made them tick…

_Ah, much better…_

It had been quite some time since Jayce had viewed his lab in terms of tidiness rather than efficiency. It showed. Gears of all size where strewn across the first floor. One particularly large specimen, about the size of human head, was embedded in the wall well past its center. Well technically, the scientist in Jayce corrected, it was embedded first in the training drone, _then_ the wall. The mannequin-like target dummy was pinned to wall in a rather gruesome fashion, a limp humanoid visage with a watchmaker's nightmare impaling it through the chest.

Jayce couldn't hide a slightly proud grin as he recalled that particular experiment. He had almost doubled the working speed of a thaumaturgical motor. Granted, he had not actually intended to, and likewise had also not in anyway prepared the motor itself for the strain, but still. Then again, his brain reminded him, he had a guest coming in about—he glanced at the clock—five minutes. One who would no doubt laugh her ass off at his mistakes. He had a hard enough time matching her bravado without giving her ammunition like _this!_

The rest of the lab was not much better. Multiple in-progress construction projects dominated the first floor in heaps of scaffolding and haphazardly arranged spare parts. He knew that what few assistants he kept frequently complained about his…unkempt methods, but that was what assistants _did_ as far as Jayce knew: nag about projects, make coffee that tasted of resignation and defeat and somehow fail to complete welds that a chimpanzee could do (and this being Piltover, frequently _did _do, with wages set generously high by the Zoological Aberrations Union, a group best described by their own motto: "_Humanity is overrated."_)

The second floor was mostly schematics and chalkboards. Well, that and the old couch that served as his bed during all-nighters. The problem was the vast multitude of blueprints, scientific journals and academic textbooks that coated every square inch of the floor. To the Piltover Scientific Archives, Jayce was a serial hoarder, a villain whose name every librarian in Piltover spat after. Jayce had once, on a whim, calculated the sum total of all his accumulated late fees. Once he saw the figure written down, he had burned the sheet of paper and sworn his assistants to secrecy.

It didn't help that Piltover's Sentinel subscribed to the school of thought that there was no need to have a filing cabinet if he already knew where everything was. It would only slow him down. It was simply really. Dr. Klunvich's treatise on high explosives was under the red coffee mug on the table in the corner, "_Meddling with Forces 101" _was currently propping up the desk that held up the stack of Zaunite Robotics Journals. The schematics for Corki's Mana-fed Thrust Engines were…somewhere in the southwestern quadrant. He could find it when he needed it, anyway.

If only it didn't look so…haphazard. He didn't really care about appearances _per se_, but Vi was a... unique set of circumstances. If it was Caitlyn, he could just grin and dismiss it with his usual swagger. Oh, the Sheriff would roll her eyes and comment on his ego, but that was standard procedure. Ultimately, they would return to whatever conversation they where having until Caitlyn dropped a reference to some legally _creative _crook or thug who she couldn't touch—and how it would be really nice if some handsome good Samaritan could snoop around and perhaps uncover some hard evidence. The flattery was, Jayce had to begrudging admit, an effective touch. That was the extent of it with the Sheriff: Banter and the occasional "request" for professional assistance.

Her partner however, was a different story. If he tried to boast around _Vi_ he'd be starting something. Vi was all about swagger and bluster, and likewise considered his grin a starting pistol. The resulting back-and-forth was not as evenly match as Jayce would have liked. Trying to keep up with that pink-haired madwoman took quite a lot of effort. A minute in the same room as her was a minute of high-impact mental cardio. It was exhilarating and tiring at the same time. All because of that that damn _smile_ of hers. Anyone else he felt confident against. The Piltover pugilist was not just anyone, unfortunately. Vi's hyena-fanged _leer_ would make _sharks_ feel uncomfortable. It certainly made Jayce feel that way, along with making him feel inadequate, confused and, most annoyingly..._alive_.

He had no other way to describe the feeling, which made it all the worse. The closest feeling to it was the pride he had felt after a project was finished, or the all-consuming relief that flooded his very core after he had ended Viktor's plans. Shattering that crystal, with all its power and all its potential, should have been the apotheosis to all an inventor stood for. Yet knowing the world was being spared that same power in the wrong hands felt… absolutely, unquestionably, _right_.

If Jayce had to be honest, it had largely been the possibility of that feeling that had kept him protecting Piltover long after Viktor's vision had been stopped. He was chasing that moment of absolute equilibrium. He had thought it impossible to experience it again—and then some overconfident, over-aggressive, over-_everything_ sociopath just happens to feel like picking a fight and she sends him to that place practically _against his will. _He did not particularly enjoy the thought of anyone having that level of control over his head, ally or no.

"_Damn that smile."_ Jayce thought _"Damn that lunatic. Damn all this emotional nonsen-" _Jayce was sharply pulled out of his thoughts by a brass ringing he eventually recognized as the doorbell.

"_Oh, right. Five minutes." _ He realized as he hurried down the stairs.

"_Damn it all. She is _not_ seeing this mess. I'd never hear the end of it. I'll just have to figure out a way to postpone this fiasco until I have it under control. Shouldn't be to hard to convince her to wait a day or two."_

Jayce stopped at the door. It was same as every other official door in the tower: wood with brass paneling and a warped glass "window" that was currently blurring out a figure that was nonetheless recognizable due to a shock of pink visible at it's head.

"…Well, couldn't hurt to try, anyway." Jayce said aloud, grabbing the doorknob.

Vi ran one hand along her other forearm. Caitlyn had managed to drag out more details of why her partner had "Gone Spectacularly Insane" in front of a patrol crew—in an interrogation which had lasted the entire ride back to their shared apartment, and had consisted mostly of Cupcake alternating between shouting at her as her superior officer, and worrying about her as a friend. Vi had relented mostly out of fear the emotional whiplash would give both of them a brain hemorrhage. Once Caitlyn heard about the tour, she immediately made Vi promise on the spot to not bring her gauntlets and to dress "as unintimidating as possible". The Sheriff was probably worried about letting Piltover's Bruiser loose in a tower full of politically influentially academics. Vi was a little insulted by that.

She didn't wear the gauntlets everywhere, for fuck's sake. Yes, she would have very much enjoyed the look on the doorman's face as the little girl he kicked out years ago came back with gloves-of-fucking-vengeance, but she _understood_ basic etiquette. She just ignored it. Still, she had acquiesced to the demands, which was why she felt uncomfortably civilian as she knocked on the door to Jayce's lab.

The most "respectable" outfit Vi had managed to put together had been a black tank-top, a red vest, a pair of khaki pantaloons she vaguely remembered nicking from a drunkard after a brawl years ago, and a dark crimson half-jacket. The lack of armor was irritating her to no end. She missed the weight and momentum. Thankfully she _had_ managed to slip a pair of steel-toed workman's boots under Caitlyn's radar for all things "tasteful".

By the third knock a distorted silhouette appeared in the window. The door swung inward and a slightly sheepish Jayce loomed in the threshold. He was clearly dressed for the workshop: khaki pants, leather boots, a wrinkled dress-shirt that had clearly seen better days and a vest with an outright absurd number of pockets, all of which contained some form of tool. He made to speak, but Vi cut him off sharply:

"Spare me the pleasantries, Futureboy. I'm here for the tech, not the small talk. Let's just keep it to a 'Hey!' okay?"

Jayce's face first displayed irritation then embarrassment. He faked a polite smile as he spoke:

"About the tour…"

Vi felt the muscles in her jaw set. Her eyes narrowed.

"Yeesss?"

"We're going to have to move it back a day or two. The lab's in _no_ shape for visitors. There have been a few accidents."

Vi felt her shoulders stiffen. His tone sounded a little too close that fucking _doorman_.

"Really? Are you sure you're not just flaking the fuck out on me?"

A flame sparked in her chest. She felt a sudden weight in her hands. The inventor's eyes widened as he threw up his hands in a placating gesture.

"No! I just don't think you should be here—_right now!_ I mean—I think it would be best if you left for a—"

Vi really didn't think about it that hard. Her arm was moving of its own, terrible will. The blur of her fist split the air like a lighting-bolt. For a brief second before impact, time slowed to a crawl, and with a dawning sense of regret, the Enforcer of Piltover watched as she caught the city's hero in the face with a right cross. Time resumed. There was a muffled grunt and a thundering bang as Jayce was driven into the doorframe. Then a heavy thump as he fell over backwards into his lab, nose gushing crimson. He didn't stir. For a moment, neither did Vi. She stared at her outstretched arm, at the end of which was a fist flecked with blood. She looked at it. Then she glanced at the man prone on the floor in front of her.

"Oh, this is going to fucking _suck."_


	3. Chapter 3: Tea and Triage

Caitlyn was a worrier by nature. Perhaps it came with the position of Sheriff, especially in a city as imaginatively volatile as Piltover. When the majority of crimes one faces are those against nature (and occasionally the rightful operation of physics) one tends to build up a preemptive store of weariness in hopes of foreseeing the next big disturbance before it has time to lurch, crawl, slither or careen towards innocent civilians. Yes, she enjoyed the _thrill_ of it all, but it would be nice if she could occasionally be called in to stop a simple bank heist or mugging. She missed those. They included a _blessed_ lack of tentacles, stingers, or trans-dimensional jiggery-pokery (It seemed like the average Piltovan physicist only considered an experiment valid if it threatened to breech the walls between at _least_ three realities).

Today was one of her _achingly_ sparse off-days, which she traditionally spent on the second-floor patio of her flat, armed with an extensive collection of trashy mystery novels and a fresh kettle of mint tea. Traditionally, her partner was also around, either making a racket on her workbench inside or relating profanity-laced tales of beat-downs she had given that week in the seat across from Caitlyn. The sheriff had grown to enjoy having the localized maelstrom that was Vi around. It was nice to have a close friend around on a day off. It was also nice to know the rough-round-the-edges-and-most-of-the-middle woman was not off in some part of the city causing mayhem (albeit, ostensibly, for the moral good of everyone involved except whichever noun had the poor luck to find themselves down the barrel of a loaded Vi)

This particularly day, however, the flat was silent. Serene. Caitlyn had actually gotten quite far in her reading, rather than the customary chapter or two. It was surreal. It was worrying. The inspector consciously thumbed the communicator on her belt. It was a small copper circle, maybe four inches across and one inch thick. A series of dials studded the rim.

It was a needlessly complicated device to operate, but it was also reliable as all hell—as opposed to the wood-and-brass audiophones that were standard-issue to the rest of the Piltover Police Department. Those where passable, but tended to malfunction when manhandled too much. Vi had gone through three of them before Caitlyn had managed to find a sturdier replacement.

She had ordered a custom pair of communicators from an outside manufacturer. The cost had been out of _her_ pocket, of course. Technically, that was against department policy, but given that Vi was involved…that only seemed fitting. Also against policy was the engraving she had done on them. Each device bore two words, done in elegant, filigree-laced lettering along the backside. Caitlyn's read: _GOOD COP,_ while her partner's bore the title _BAD COP. _ Vi had called it corny, but had been smiling at the time. The communicator had stayed on the brawler's belt ever since.

Caitlyn briefly considered calling to making sure everything was going all right, but decided against it. The tour was probably going fine. Vi was headstrong, yes, but so was her host. Jayce was every bit the braggart the pink-haired ruffian was. The rivalry between those two was fairly good-natured, as far as Caitlyn could tell. Vi had, behind closed doors, admitted the man had some impressive tech. The sheriff of Piltover had known her enforcer long enough to recognize this as high praise.

Then again, there had been that business with the hijacked mining rig. Vi hadn't so much apprehended the rig as _shredded_ it. That would have been par for the course, if it hadn't been for the look on the pugilist's face. Caitlyn had seen her in fights plenty of times. She usually spent the whole of them smiling like a madwoman—but then and there, Vi hadn't been spoiling for a brawl. She had looked ready to end someone.

Given what Caitlyn (and most of the Limerick Street Patrol) had overheard from her exchange with Jayce, the pink-haired mechanic had been a little less than thrilled when he had taken a blow for her. That was fairly likely: the Hero of Piltover tended to play his part a little too well—there was a fine line between valor and complete contempt for basic strategy.

Vi's anger had been a bit much though. She had looked ready to haul off and—

Caitlyn's train of though was interrupted as the communicator erupted into a frenzy of buzzing. She frowned and brought it off her belt and up to her ear.

"Hello?"

" I just knocked Futureboy unconscious."

"…"

"You what?" the device buzzed. Vi held it to her ear as she leaned over the prone body of her host. For a man with a bloodied nose and bruised forehead, he seemed oddly at peace. A stupefied grin seemed stuck on his face.

"I knocked Futureboy un—"

"Okay, so that _was_ what you said." Caitlyn's disbelief carried through the device despite the robotic accent. There was an awkward pause.

"Cait?"

"I'm still here, just…_Why?_ Was it an accident?"

"Yes. No. Both. It's a bit messy. Look he was being an idiot and I may have given him a nudge but—"

"You mean you slugged him. You just knocked out the Hero of Piltover."

"_But that's not why I called._ Look, right now I need to know if he's okay, and _you_ actually paid attention during the first aid training." Continued Vi, slightly exasperated. Jayce's nose was still going and the blood was starting to pool around his head. It looked rather…incriminating. Vi gently tried to close the door to the hall, lest she be seen standing over a man in a pool of his own blood. The inventor's feet barred it from closing.

"I. You—oh sweet gears and god-damned cogs, Vi! Fine. How does he look?"

Vi urgently kicked the hero's boots out of the doorway and shut the door. She then remembered her steel-toed boots. She winced. _We'll have_ _to_ _deal with that later._

"His nose is bleeding, his eyes are shut and he's grinning like a masochist."

"First, prop him up so he doesn't drown in his own blood—_oh gears I actually said that sentence. Vi this is not even _halfway_ responsible! We need to call an ambulance_ and—" Caitlyn started angrily

"FOCUS, Cupcake!" Vi shouted into the communicator "Triage now, Morals later."

The brawler kneeled down and heaved Jayce up by the torso. His weight almost toppled both of them over. His smiling face lolled back and forth with the motion, like a macabre bobble head.

"Okay, no longer drowning. Now what?"

"You said he was smiling?"

"Like a fucking creep, yeah."

"_That's a concussion! _How hard did you _hit_ him?_"_

Vi cringed. She grabbed the back of Jayce's head and kept it upright. The bruise on his forehead seemed to glare at her accusingly.

"I was a little emotional. He also hit his head on the way down."

"Oh gods. At least he's still breathing…he _is_ breathing, right?"

Vi checked his pulse. She sighed with relief.

"Yeah. He's fine."

"…Your pause does not fill me with confidence—and "Fine" might be a little bit of an overstatement."

"Nice to see your biting wit has joined us Cupcake. Now what?"

"Check for neck injuries."

Vi shook the hero's head left and right.

"He seems alright."

"Again, you might phrase that better. Well, congratulations Vi, you _probably_ didn't do any _permanent damage_—physically speaking. I'm calling the medics, he needs to be observed overnight—"

"_No!_ No need. I've got it covered."

"…Ignoring the fact that _you're _the one who rung his bell in the first place, _and _the fact you have no medical experience at all, why should I leave you to look after him?"

"Because the alternative would be a PR shitstorm about how you let a reformed criminal visit a beloved town hero and kick his ass." Vi stated simply.

There was a long, drawn out pause.

"_Fuck._"

"Oh, so you _can_ swear?"

"Don't push it, Vi. I'm in no mood."

Vi was silent for a moment.

"…I know Cait. We can talk about this later."

"…Just call the hospital if it looks bad and try not to make me regret this decision even more."

"Thanks Cupcake."

"Fucking god-damn hell, Vi."

"Atta girl." Vi clicked off the communicator and wondered what to do next. A heavy shuffling drew her attention behind her. She turned to see a brass automaton attempt to look sheepish, a venture in which it objectively failed. A shrill voice materialized in the room.

"Excuse me madam. I was expected to inform the Professor of his diagnostics on the hammer. Is he currently indisposed?"

Vi stared. This had been a weird day in general, she figured. This might as well happen.

"Something like that, tin man."

" I was also informed he was to have company. Are you the referred-to party?"

The machine leaned forward to inspect her. She craned her head to look around the eerily silent floor.

"I'm going to go with "yes" right now?"

"In light of the Professor's malady, may I offer my assistance?"

Vi grinned. _Finally,_ something good. She regarded the damaged goods in her arms. She turned back the automaton.

"First off, do you have a bed anywhere? A couch, maybe?"

Caitlyn was sick of worrying. Vi, gears bless that maniac's soul, would have a lot to answer for. Right now, however, the Sheriff's nerves were more than a little rattled. She recalled a stash of hard liquor that ruffian kept near her workbench…

Well, as compensation went, it would be a start.

With a hearty sigh, she pitched her tea over the patio ledge and went inside to go collect on recently acquired favors.

_Give me a mugging any day._

Jayce was not unaccustomed to hangovers. He had researched them thoroughly in his college days, spending many a morning waking to an impending sense of physiochemical retribution. This, however, was something else entirely. His head rang like a church bell in a hurricane. His thoughts where slow, like molasses. Sentences were slow to form at first, though he was rapidly regaining some capacity for thought and speech.

"Ow."

It was a start. _Why where his _feet_ killing him? _It felt like someone had ridden a truck over them. He attempted to open his eyes…

"_Ow_."

The light was a cheating bastard. It stung like a red-hot razor into his face. Speaking of which…

He slowly maneuvered a hand to his nose and felt something …soft? Tissue paper? He pulled it out of his nostrils. It was caked with dried blood. The hell was that from? Better yet, _where was he_?

He slowly managed to compute this question into an answer. It took awhile. The inventor's mind lacked its usual agility. It annoyed him. Ah! He was on a couch. His couch? Yes. He was in his lab all right. Good old all-nighters. Must have been working on a project harder than usual. Ah well, might as well nap a few more hours then, till he could start remember what _precisely_ he was working on.

Jayce turned his head on the couch. He was propped up rather awkwardly in a sitting position. Must've just passed right out. _What had he been working on?_ Something about…hands? Ah, well. That was a problem for later. Sleep was for now. He turned his head into the pillow behind his head and took a deep breath. The usual smells filled his lungs: oil, ink, ozone, and _perfume?_

His eyes shot open. An entire section of his memory flickered back into being. He shot up, dislodging the red half-jacket someone had put under his head. He immediately regretted the decision as the room spun like a top. The nausea almost bit back the words boiling in his throat. Almost.

"SHE PUNCHED ME?"

"Oh good, you're up! Almost had me worried there, Futureboy."

The voice came from nearby, in what currently registered as a swirling mass of shapes and color. Jayce closed his eyes and swallowed. He took a deep breath.

"How you feeling?"

He opened his eyes. Vi sat at one of the desks that lined the second floor. Her back was turned to him. A stack of schematics and books was haphazardly piled in front of her.

"You punched me?"

"I'm going to assume that means your memory is fine too. Bonus."

"You. Punched. Me." The inventor repeated the words more for his own sake. He was trying to make them make sense. It wasn't really working. Vi threw up her hands. A glimmer of metal appeared in each of them. Was she…using his tools?

"OKAY! Yes! That happened. That was a fucking thing."

She made wide sweeping gestures with the sentence. Jayce slowly stood up. The room remained blessedly stationary. He started over to the shock of pink hair that shined like a beacon. He almost tripped over a pair of steel-toed boots someone had left strewn across the middle of the floor.

"…look, I'm _sorry_."

The voice was sincere, if also irritated. Jayce was silent as he approached the desk. Vi still remained facing it. He could see a mess of parts lain out on the table in front of her. Her arms moved swiftly, performing various tasks and occasional shifting back to her vest to grab some spare tool—wait…

Jayce patted his shirt frantically. His hands didn't feel any tools. That was _his_ vest! A mild symphony of metallic clinks filled the air.

"No, really. You just…tripped into some bad memories for me. I overreacted."

"…_by knocking me out and taking my stuff_. "

"I'm not _stealing_ anything! Just … _borrowing_. You were out for a while and…"

She turned the chair around. Jayce caught a glimpse of several small devices that looked vaguely familiar.

"I like to keep my hands busy when I'm worried."

Vi looked disheveled, her hair tossed about in an unkempt flurry. Her face and forearms sported oil smears. She sat barefoot and cross-legged in the chair, a slightly crumpled schematic lain out in her lap. The inventor in Jayce found the sight sexy beyond words. The rest of him was greatly irritated by this. Sexy or no, the woman had _mugged_ him.

"Worried? You?" He said flatly. Vi shrugged and turned back to her work.

"Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are. What can I say? You're handy in a fight—when you aren't messing with all that chivalry _bullshit— _and, for an insufferable fucking egghead you're _surprisingly_ personable."

Jayce tried to process the almost-compliment that he had been given/accused of. He was uncomfortable with how much it meant to him. He reflexively turned up the swagger.

"Why, miss Vi, it almost sounds like you've taking a liking to—"

"—Also" she cut him off curtly "Cupcake would have my head in a box if I messed up the Hero of Piltover's pretty little face. In front of his little toy butler and everything."

Jayce winced.

"So you met Harvey."

"No, I _experienced_ Harvey. Good fucking Cogs, Futureboy, that tin man has a voice like a bad teakettle. You _do _know how to calibrate a rattlebox, right?"

"Of course." Said Jayce's mouth

_Not even remotely,_ thought his brain

"Well at least make an effort. I'm not even going to _start_ on your servos. I couldn't even have that bot of yours show me around while you were drooling on the sofa. Watching it _tap-dance _around would have been too embarrassing."

" …I was going to do some fine-tuning later." The inventor mumbled

"Well, _good for you_. Now _you_ get the pleasure of showing me around."

"Beg pardon?"

Vi swung the chair back around. She fixed him with a glare while twirling a spanner in her right hand.

"You made an offer, Futureboy. You are going to keep it"

"I _told_ you—"

"What? There had been some _accidents?_ Bullshit. You're trying to weasel your way out of your deal. Not very _heroic_ of you, breaking your word to a young lady."

Jayce stood sack-jawed for a few seconds before glaring.

"That's quite the lecture for a _thief_!"

He lunged for the spanner. Vi shifted slightly as he felt a sudden weight on his chest. His hand stopped inches sort of the prize. He looked down to see that the brawler had planted a foot on his chest. The tinkerer tried to stretch his arm farther. Vi just shifted her arm back. She grinned like shark, bright and _hungry_.

"Yeah, that's true, Futureboy—but here's the thing about thieves…"

The pink-haired woman leaned close till Jayce could feel her breathe.

"_One way or another, we get what we want_." She whispered.

With that Vi kicked the hero back and stood up from her chair. She closed her eyes and stretched her arms.

"Better hop to it Futureboy. Your little nap cost us a few hours."

She walked past him to grab her boots.

Jayce stared into empty space, the breath and the whisper still slithering down his spine…


	4. Chapter 4: Taking Inventory

"Okay, _Professor_, impress me. What's up first?"

Jayce tried not to let the voice reach his nerves. He surveyed the first floor from in front of the corner staircase. He tried to remember which projects were in a presentable state and—given his guest—which ones where relatively incapable of wanton mayhem. Vi sat on the first step behind him. One hand propping up her head while her elbow rested on a knee.

"You know, if you _must_ patronize me, you could at least stop wearing my clothes first."

She hadn't given him his vest back. Somehow, the fact she was looking smugly comfortable in it didn't irritate him. Well, not as much as how _exposed_ he felt without it.

"Pass. It makes too good a trophy—'I punched out the Hero of Tomorrow and all I got was his precious vest'."

"Smartass."

"Ooh, and I got him to _swear_, too. My, aren't you emotional! Are you going to cry too—big _manly_ tears? You really know how to please a girl."

The inventor's left eye twitched. He didn't even have to turn to know her face would be plastered with that damn _smirk_.

" I'd hardly be a gentleman otherwise. Now, your sarcastic _grace_—"

The hero turned sharply on his heels and smiled with gusto…and just a _touch_ of put upon frustration.

"I would _so very much_ like to know why I shouldn't be kicking your pretty little rear out the door."

He had expected the threat would have wiped the smile off her face. It only widened. The ruffian stood up and crossed her arms. Despite the fact he stood a decent head above her, Jayce did not feel in control.

"Well…" the pink-haired bruiser drawled. " For starters, we've already proven that asking me nicely doesn't work…"

Jayce felt the bruise on his forehead—it still stung a bit. He could have sworn something briefly flickered through Vi's smug expression. It was gone too quick for him to read. She started pacing around him.

"…Which leaves force. And we both know that your sense of chivalry is almost as big as your ego. No fucking way _you—"_

A finger jabbed into the inventor's chest, causing him to take a step back. Vi stared him dead in the eye.

"—Would ever use physical force on a _lady_. You _could_ call security, but too much of your pride is at stake isn't it, Futureboy?"

She leaned in closer. He instinctively leaned back.

"So until you satisfy me, I fucking _own_ you._"_

Jayce felt the blood rushing to his face. It was not a response he had been expecting. Faced with the unknown and the potential threat of physical violence, he did what came naturally and mouthed off.

"Well that's a bit sudden. What, no ring?"

Vi's face briefly went wooden. He could have sworn it was slightly redder. Then the grin regained its usual fuck-it-all panache as she leaned back.

"In your dreams. Maybe a nice collar_,_ though."

"Why am I _not_ surprised that you go in for that kind of thing?"

"Says the man who runs around in a special leather outfit so he can get hit by random strangers."

Jayce felt his mouth open and shut a few times. He put his face in his palm and sighed heavily. He turned around gestured over his shoulder to his guest.

" Right." He said "Come on, _Slugger_. Let's get this bad idea rolling."

Vi followed her host down a row of worktables, craning her neck this way and that, stray pieces of recognizable tech catching her attention. Her fascination caused her to almost crash into her host while her attention was snagged on a particularly handsome aether drive sitting, partially assembled, amid a mess of tools. The inventor made to comment but she cut him off quickly. Banter could wait.

"Is that a Pellstone Drive? How the _fuck_ did you afford one?"

Jayce seemed mildly surprised.

" Technically I didn't. It's on loan from their lab. ."

"They let you borrow one?" Vi was slightly irate at the notion "Just to take apart_?"_

The inventor looked sheepish.

"_Er_, well…" he mumbled. Vi stared at him expectantly before a gear clicked in her head. A slow grin spread on her face. _Well, in-fucking-deed…_

"They don't know, do they? That you're dissecting one of their babies."

The hero of Piltover stared just past her shoulder, avoiding eye contact. His face was meticulously neutral.

"Of course they know."

Vi raised an eyebrow and walked over to the bench where the glimmering device sat. It was a polished steel and brass device in a vaguely cube-like shape. In its current state, one half of the cube was partially stripped away, revealing a polished sphere of glass nested in a mess of wires. She bent over for a closer look.

"You are a fucking _horrid_ liar, you know that?"

The bruiser took advantage of her host's mortified pause to deftly swipe a few tools out of her recently acquired vest.

"_What_ are you doing?" Jayce asked flatly

"What'd you think? Making myself complicit in your adorable little con. These things could potentially power entire _districts_ of the city. I am not passing up a chance to peak inside the fucking _bleeding edge_ of hextech."

The inventor looked genuinely surprised "You know an awful lot about Aetherics for—"

Vi's eyes narrowed as she turned her head sharply at him.

"Choose your next words wisely, Futureboy."

"—_For a cop_, is what I was going to say." He glared back. He waved one broad arm at the Pellstone Drive "This isn't really your field." The comment earned him a derisive snort from his guest.

"Says fucking _who_? What do you think my babies run on? I had to fit them with second-gen drives just to lift them up. It was a bitch to calibrate, too."

"…Are you telling me you go around with _two incredibly volatile mana reactors_ strapped to your fists, punching crooks_?" _Asked Jayce flatly. He had gone pale.

" In the face, no less." grinned the pugilist, turning back to the device. The bruised hero of Piltover darted to her side.

"You are _actually_ insane."

"Oh stopped being so dramatic. The gauntlets generate localized vacuums in the Aether. Any excess power gets shunted off before it can build up to something nasty."

The enforcer punctuated her sentences with her hands, causing Jayce to duck before he received an enthusiastic screwdriver to the eye.

"A nice perk of _that_ is the sudden change in pressure makes for a nice kinetic impulse. One part resistor, one part blast shield, _all parts_ my genius." Finished the brawler. From her side, her host stared.

"…That is actually quite brilliant."

"Oh stop, you're going make me go all teary eyed."

"You're not good at taking compliments."

"You're not good at giving them. Now stop hovering over me, Futureboy, I going to make this sexy beast tell me _everything_ it knows."

With that, Vi jabbed an elbow back, narrowly missing Jayce as he jumped back. The inventor sighed and leaned against the adjacent desk. A sudden blue spark flashed off the drive as the bruiser tinkered with it. She paid it no mind. Jayce twitched. _She's going to set the damn thing off. _He massaged his temples and tried to think quickly

"Look, I've already sketched out the details and made _plenty_ of notes. If I let you borrow those—"

He looked up and found himself distracted. As his guest leaned over her work, he was presented with a…flattering view of her assets. It took a few second for the hero's sense of conduct to regain control and force his gaze upward as hastily continued.

"—Will you leave the drive alone?"

The pugilist stood up and turned to face him, stowing her tools with fluid ease. She rubbed her chin in mock thought.

"Well…that does give me more time—and gears turning, a dork like _you_ probably recorded every detail…"

Jayce bit his tongue and restrained himself from response.

"…Sure, you have a deal."

Vi held out a hand. Her host grinned in relief and shook it. Crisis averted, he turned around to continue down the aisle…

…And felt a sharp pinch in an unexpected place.

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as Vi leaned around his shoulder from behind him, grinning innocently.

"Gotta love a fair trade." She piped as she winked impishly. "Lead on Sweetcheeks."

Caitlyn wobbled slightly as she poured herself another glass from Vi's stash. The markswoman was hardly a lightweight, but her partner's taste in liquors tended towards the downright _industrial _in the sense thatthebottles kept near her workbench could just as easily etch steel as they could hobble a liver.

_Hardwin's Gutkick_ in particular came in a bulky square bottle that projected an acrid scent for several yards when properly corked. When _opened_, it tended to make any nearby open flame turn a quite lovely shade of magenta. The brand logo, in the spirit of fair warning, was a hand extending the middle finger with pride.

"_How subtle."_ thought the Sheriff, as she tipped the bottle gently over a glass. The substance that flowed into it stained the glass a dirty yellow. Caitlyn ignored this and downed the shot in one go. She slammed her eyelids shut as her throat cried bitter vengeance for this atrocity.

The officer in her was a little worried about breaking out the heavy stuff so early in the evening, but…the thought of her partner, the one woman riot squad, playing nurse to anybody, let alone the Hero of Tomorrow was not especially comforting.

Vi had brought home a cactus to "take care of" once. It had been after Caitlyn had strictly forbid any pets in the apartment on the grounds the enforcer wasn't responsible enough and she herself was too busy. The next day she had come home to a two-foot tall pile of hardy spikes and greenery that Vi had lovingly nicknamed "Winston".

If the pugilist had been looking to prove Cait wrong, the plan had backfired horrendously when, two weeks later, the sheriff caught her partner attempting to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night to dispose of the then-desiccated corpse of the late Winston. Whatever care she had provided had managed to turn the poor flora into a sickly-yellow husk.

That same care was now being administered/inflicted upon a high-profile celebrity of Piltover's scientific community. The possibilities that danced in Caitlyn's head were not hopeful.Even if Jayce was fine, when he woke up and found out what happened, he would likely be in a foul mood. Combine that with his big mouth and Vi's short temper...

_I hope they can at least keep their hands off each other, _though the sheriff.

"Oh stop getting your boxers in a knot, Futureboy. It was a joke."

Vi couldn't hide the amusement in her voice. Seeing the stalwart protector of the city shield his rump with both hands while looking well and thoroughly ruffled was…well…surprisingly satisfying. _Fucking Gears, He looks like a startled cat!_

" I just…didn't see that coming." Jayce sheepishly removed his hands from his rear and attempting to put on some semblance of dignity

"Oh I know. You went from plush to tense like—"

"_I get the idea."_

Vi smiled. Jayce's face remained red.

"Please stop thinking—whatever it is your thinking."

"Hey, I least I wasn't ogling my guest." Retorted the bruiser.

"…I apologize. I was merely struck by—" the inventor paused with the hurried hesitation of man trying to outmaneuver a landslide " –How striking and intelligent you are."

"…_aaaand we're dead." _said a voice in the back of his head. Jayce wondered briefly what it would have been like to been born with any shred of survival instincts.

Vi was, miraculously, speechless. Her face reddened. She grinned a smaller smile, one without the usual bravado. Then she looked confused. Then enraged. Finally, her face settled into an expression of uncertain frustration. She glared _through_ him for several seconds.

"Um. Fucking right. Of course I am." Said Vi in a distracted tone.

"…Are you okay?"

The pugilist's face snapped back to its usual veneer of easy confidence. She glared at him, annoyed.

"Still waiting on that tour Futureboy. No more fucking stalling."

"Right, of course! Right this way." piped Jayce, severely confused but incredibly happy to be alive "I think you'll like this first device."

"What's it do?"

"Damage."

Vi smiled like a child in a candy store and followed her host once more.


	5. Chapter 5: Ballistics and Banter

"Be honest. Did you invite me here just so you could show off your spectacular pair of brass balls?"

Jayce—who had been a breath away from launching into his formal presentation on the device sitting on the table behind him, felt his face redden and his nerves twitch. The machine consisted of two brass orbs, each resting in an indentation on a cylinder from which ran countless wires. He had lifted one arm up to make a theatrical gesture, though now he used it to run a hand down his face in irritation…and to hide the smirk that, against all decorum, sprouted on his lips.

"Do you really have to make everything vulgar?" his response was muted by his palm

"It's one my major life goals—alongside kicking ass, taking names, and making science my bitch." Vi delivered her response as though stating the obvious.

"What happened to '_to protect and serve'_?"

"Meh. It got old—and _you're_ giving me shit about that, rampant vigilante that you are? You know, the only reason I'm not dragging your prettyboy ass around in ashiny new pair of handcuffs is I think you'd enjoy that a _little_ too much."

"Worried science might get jealous?" The response got past Jayce's tongue before he could halt it.

"Ooh, aren't you the kinky little homewrecker? _That_ eager to have me—"

"—_Anyway—" _The inventor stammered quickly, seeing in Vi's eyes a spark of unrestrained glee that would have made a devil blush.

"This is my prototype for my Volta-kinetic collision module. I'm quite proud of it really, it took me _ages_ to—"

"Uh-huh." Barked the bruiser "Lets skip the lip service, eh Futureboy? How does it go boom and what ridiculous nick-name have you given it?"

Jayce wondered briefly if his guest either didn't recognize irony, or simply didn't care. He kept his face as neutral as possible.

"I have _no_ idea why you would think that I would—"

"What do they call that overcompensation of yours again? The Astro-hammer?"

"The _Mercury Hammer._" Snapped Jayce.

"Ooh, now that's so much more dignified. Good _Gears_ it's so _adorable_ when you get all in a huff about your little toys."

The inventor felt the last of his nerves combust.

"Oh, like you haven't named your gauntlets."

"Don't be a fucking moron."

"Really? I seem to remember you referring to one as 'Professor Pain' back when we busted up Giddy Gimble's protection racket."

Jayce felt a rapturous moment of vindication as Vi went scarlet and narrowed her eyes. _Finally_ he had scored a point.

"And I seem to remember Mrs. Gimble having you in a headlock for most of that. While _I_ did all the work." Growled the brawler, her voice slightly less composed than usual.

_And there it goes…_ thought Jayce. He stared at his shoes.

"…she blindsided me." He mumbled

"an 80-year old widow _blindsided _you." Vi deadpanned.

" Okay, fine. I couldn't bring myself to hit her." The hero of Piltover replied guiltily.

"She had at _least_ twenty counts of arson."

"She also had two grandchildren, I wasn't going to—" the inventor stopped when noticed a look of curiosity in his guest's eyes.

"Futureboy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you mind telling me why you know that?"

"She told it to me." Jayce replied, scratching the back of his head.

"Go figure. When? Before or after she brained you with the pistol?"

"…after. Significantly after—and she apologized for that"

"Funny. I seemed to remember her being unconscious after I clocked her."

Jayce winced.

"Well…er…you remember how the court decided to let her off easy?"

"I do. You shouldn't." Vi said, a gleam of cognition in her eyes.

"Yes, well… when they put her in that retirement home…"

There was a long dead silence. Jayce looked up to see Vi staring at him, slack-jawed. The bruiser then recomposed herself and crossed her arms.

"Futureboy, let me just take a shot-in-the-fucking-dark here: Have you, or have you not, been visiting a psychotic old biddy to keep her company."

"…"

"Right. I thought so."

There was a moment of silence.

Vi reared her head back and cackled shamelessly, barely able to speak. She teetered dangerously. Jayce felt the increasingly familiar heat as his cheeks reddened.

"Oh…Sweet…Fucking…_Cogs…." _gasped Vi, as her manic laughter died down. She looked back at her host…

And burst out laughing again. Jayce hurried to catch her as she lost her balance. He tried very hard not to notice the radiant heat where her bare arms nudged him. After Vi regained some semblance of composure, she wrestled out his arms and leaned against the workbench.

"Futureboy…you are a real piece of fucking work, you know that?"

"I defer to your expertise on that."

"No, I'm a masterpiece._ You're a_ shameless heroism addict who has tea with convicts to show them the error of their ways."

"How did you…"

Vi interrupted him with one hand, her flushed cheeks displaying a prominent grin.

"Please don't finish that. I don't think my heart can take another round of mocking you."

"Somehow I think you'd find the strength."

"Wouldn't I though? Hoo boy, I almost feel guilty with this kind of blackmail."

The inventor looked aghast.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I'm sure the papers would go fucking _mad_ for story like this. You know—" Vi went wide-eyed "I might just have front-page material here."

"Look, Vi—"

"Ah ah ah, _Your Fantastic Awesomeness_, if you please" The brawler cut in, her grin threatening to expand past her face. Jayce crossed his own arms and stared at her.

"…Now way in any goddamn hell am I calling you that."

Vi rubbed her hands together before using one to mime an earpiece.

"Oh _Daily Word_. Have I got a human-interest piece for _you_…"

The hero of Piltover grimaced. The thought of walking through the Institute of War after word of _this_ got around did _not_ appeal to him. _Oh Gears fuck it all _he thought bitterly.

"Fine! Your Fantastic...Awesomeness…can we just move on with the tour we've yet to even fucking _start_."

"Tell you what. If you tell your nickname for the shiny scrotum over there—" Vi jerked a thumb towards the twin spheres on the workbench. "—I'll do you the _huge_ favor of not holding this over your head till the end of time."

Jayce gritted his teeth.

"Fine, I…informally designated it… the Thundercracker."

" Now was that so hard, Futureboy? Hell, I'll even toss you a bone. Yeah, I named righty Professor Pain. Lefty is Doctor Damage."

"Subtle."

"Well, I do try."

Jayce turned back the workbench. Vi strode over to his side and leaned with her back against it.

"Right, well as I was saying. _These_—" The inventor reached to on of the spheres and flicked a few switches on its resting place before gently picking it up with one hand.

"—are my response armored targets."

"Finally realized the hammer can't do everything?"

Jayce ignored the commentary.

"Both these spheres generate an aether-assisted magnetic field. One positive, one negative. When both are active, they attract each other with immense force. Once they make contact, the fields converge and the sudden shift runs an electrical current through the aether. Instant dynamo."

"So you basically made a set of big ass magnets."

Jayce narrowed his eyes.

"Not exactly."

He carefully held the sphere out to Vi who quirked an eyebrow, but took it gingerly. The inventor then retrieved the other sphere.

"Let's see if your skepticism survives a little _preview_.?" Jayce casually flipped opened his sphere and tinkered with its innards. Vi, curiosity piqued attempted to the same with her own orb to no avail. Her face contorted with visible annoyance as she attempted to pry the device open violently to get at its secrets.

"I've turned down the output, so it should be safe enough to use in the lab without any collateral. The blast should only be—" Jayce trailed off as he look up to see Vi holding her device in a death grip, her elbows out and tendons straining. She noticed his attention and looked back with what could almost have been embarrassment.

"What? Can't blame a girl for trying to get a look."

Jayce gingerly took the sphere from her and raised an eyebrow.

"Right…"

"Don't fucking patronize me Futureboy."

"or you'll…what? deck me one again?"

The bruiser looked uncharacteristically guilty. Se crossed her arms and avoided his eyes.

"I already apologized for that. You just…get under my skin sometimes. I'm not used to people fucking with my head"

"So you decided to bash _mine_ in."

"You came out of it alright! I even kept watch to make sure you were okay. It's not like I fucking _planned_ to fucking wallop my Futureboy in the head."

"Because that just—wait, what do you mean '_my' Futureboy_?"

Vi felt her train of thought slam to a halt. Her mouth hung open.

_That was _not_ what I just fucking said _thought the bruiser.

_Oh really?_ Came a voice from a corner of her mind. She shook it away.

"I got fucking flustered! I don't do apologies. Consider yourself lucky I'm even explaining this shit." Vi was surprised by how venomous the words spilled out of her.

"Flustered? _Bullshit_! You don't get flustered. You've the least fluster of anyone I know. _Including _the automatons." Jayce was clearly agitated. _Good_. Anger was familiar to Vi. She could deal with anger.

"Oh, so all of a sudden I'm a hard-ass _bitch_ to you? Gee, I_ must_ be, since I have the gall to intrude upon your little fucking Hammer Fortress of Justice. You practically slammed the door in my face!"

Okay, maybe she shouldn't be shouting _quite_ that loud. Jayce glared back.

"Don't you _dare_ think I mean that. You're just so cog-damned _unstoppable_ all the time. That's what I meant. I admit you being here is not something I was ready for, _all right? I panicked. _ I can deal with the interns and the press, but you're so...fucking _you_. It's hard to think straight when you're around. " He shouted back. A look of mild surprise and confusion flickered on his face before it returned to an expression of annoyance.

Vi felt…Well, she didn't quite know what she felt.

_Right?_

"What's that suppose to mean." She growled absentmindedly.

Jayce looked exasperated. There was silence as he ran a hand through his hair.

"It's like…I don't know. Getting a severe shock—"

"Gee, thanks."

"—It's hard to forget and everything just seems brighter for awhile."

"…Huh."

Vi felt an odd, erratic pleasure at that. She stared at Jayce, who in turned focused obsessively on the spheres in his hands. He seemed off balance. Silence reigned for a few minutes.

"Right!" Vi bared, hands clapping together as she cracked her knuckles. Jayce jolted to attention.

"If we're done with all the sappy apologies, you promised me a show" she exclaimed as she snatched a sphere back from her host. She took some generous strides down the aisle and turned to face the inventor. Jayce stood bewildered for a split second that carried on, relieved.

"Oh. Yes. Just hold on to your node and then let it go on the count of three. You may want a something to protect your eyes." Jayce retrieved a pair of dingy goggles from the workbench.

"Got it covered." Vi slid her ever-present eyewear down from her forehead. "Let's see if you're as impressive as you think."

"Oh, I am. Now going from three—" The inventor spun the top half of his sphere around, triggering a light humming sound. Vi felt the sphere in her own hands buzz softly and start to warm.

"…two…"

The sphere shook harder.

"…one…"

The enforcer let go of her sphere before it could wrench itself out of her grip. It shot forward like a comet. Jayce's sphere was already air. There was a loud crash of metal on metal…

…and the world screamed into a searing light. Vi heard nothing but the roar of thunder. Smelt nothing but copper and ozone—and felt nothing but a wave of intense heat.

"Well…I may need…to…work on the stun setting."

The inventor's voice was only just audible over the ringing in Vi's ears. As her vision returned, she slid her goggles back and shot a glance over to her host, who stood waving one hand in front of his face, no doubt attempting to drive off the wafting scent of burnt wires.

The twin spheres sat on the floor, no worse for wear. The bruiser of Piltover strode over to them and ginger felt the air around them. Room temperature. She carefully picked up the devices. Jayce moved to her side, grinning like a schoolboy.

"Well, do I deliver, or do I impress?"

"Well shit, Futureboy. I might actually have to respect you one of these days."

"…I fear the blast radius of whatever eventually does the trick."

"Well, you could always let me fiddle around with these bad boys. That might warm me up to notion." Vi held one orb up the light, a love-struck grin on her face.

"I think Caitlyn would prefer that arrests that didn't require a clean up crew." Jayce grinned and deftly pluck the orb from her hand, setting it gently back on the workbench. His guest eyed it longingly. He moved to grab its sibling, only for the enforcer to dart her hand away.

"Ah, but what's the risk in just a little peak?"

"When you're involved? Plenty."

The inventor made another lunge for the orb. Vi dodged and turned her back to him, focusing on attempting to flip open the sphere. Jayce stepped close and tried to reach his arms around her to grab it. The bruiser felt his warmth and was sudden quite glad her face turned away from him.

"Okay, Let's _not_ fiddle with the explosive device?"

Vi felt the hero's voice rumble in his chest. She then remembered what she was holding. She almost had it open…

Her elbow sunk home into her host's stomach, garnering a wheeze as he slid back. Vi felt a pang of regret at the sudden coolness at her back. The feeling evaporated as the sphere finally clicked open, revealing a row of levers and a trio of gauges. She immediate started experimenting.

A voice groaned from the floor.

"Really. _Really?_"

"Sorry. I have my priorities. Science is my bitch, remember."

"_That_ can't be a happy relationship.

"I view _consent_ as an optional side goal."

"Cogs, you're terrifying."

" You fucking invited me."

"I recall a concussion was involved. Twice."

" Well, you didn't say no. "

"…I need to work on that."

"No shit, Future—"

A loud, shrill voice cut in from nowhere.

"Professor, I must inquire on your health after I heard a—"

Vi's arm traced a perfect arc through the air as it sent the orb speeding towards the source of the new voice. Only after her grip had been released did her head turn to see a brass Automaton.

Seconds before impact, Harvey caught the sphere in mid air, barely phased.

"I must state my preference that I do not wish to be used as a recreational target."

Jayce sat up on the floor.

"Harvey? What did she just do?"

Vi ignored the automaton's response in favor of focusing on an immediate concern: a loud hum coming from the workbench. The brawler in her immediately responded. She was mid-leap when the orb shot off the workbench. She landed, knocking Jayce to the floor just as a politely alarmed voice stated:

"Oh buckets."

A maelstrom ruled the laboratory for a terrible second. The sound of tools and parts flying into walls and busting through windows added to the mighty bellow of the Thundercracker.

When the chaos tapered off, Vi dared a look. She pushed herself off her host—who was now a brilliant crimson in the face. When he spoke, it was with the alarming tranquility of a man who presently, would like to not deal with reality.

"Vi?"

"Yes?"

"Did you just throw a highly volatile explosive device at my robot?"

The pink-haired hellion stood up to eye a large hole that had been torn through the wall. It was vaguely humanoid. A light rain of plaster, in accordance to the universal law of comedic timing, rained down. A birds-eye view of the city could be seen through the wreckage. The wind whistled in. Vi bit her lip.

"Or I was happy to see you. Take your pick."


End file.
